Deliverance
by Domino Nermandi
Summary: While at dinner, Max and Logan recieve some very unexpected guests, who lead them to question the existance of projects that may just be even more dangerous then Manticore...
1. Out of the Frying Pan

Deliverance

Chapter One: Out of the Frying Pan

Past the lights of the city, I can see no stars. But I can sense them. The music of the spheres is playing for me, only for me, again, inside my head.

Outside of myself, I walk the streets, no longer searching, I have found what I have been looking for, but I will wait to get it. These things take time. In the short while that my life has spanned, I have learned that much. Out of all my lessons, that may be the most important. Everything has its allotted amount of time, if you rush it, take to long, the window of opportunity closes. But I have timed this perfectly.

Jason walks by my side, silent, as is his nature, but the electricity that is him keeps me company. He almost crackles and hums with energy as he walks, a power plant of a boy. He looks to me from the corner of a sparkling hazel eye, and I can't help but smile back. In mere hours, we will have our ally. If we are supremely lucky, we may have a warm bed, perhaps a mentor.

But these things take time.

And what we need is not ready for us yet.

_This seizure is the worst I've seen yet_, Logan thought, but then again, that was what he thought every time he saw her like this.

They had been about to eat dinner, as was their custom, when Max's deep brown eyes had suddenly gone dull. She had known what was coming. Logan had looked up at her just in time to see her try to warn him, when she began shuddering violently enough to make her slide off her chair. He had somehow managed to lift her onto his lap and get her over to the couch.

"Lo—gan?" She muttered between spasms.

"I'm here." He told her, returning from the kitchen with a glass of water in hand and a bottle's worth of tryptophan, "See if you can get this down." She might have tried to nod, but with the violence of the seizure, who could tell?

He fed her the pills, watching her carefully, making certain that she wouldn't choke on her chemical solution. Not for the first time, Logan wished death on the people who'd done this to her…

It was so strange to him, thinking about Manticore. They had made Max possible. They had made her, this incredible human being—abeit a genetically engineered human being—and he had to thank them for that. But for everything they'd put her through, everything that her hopped up DNA made her go through, he honestly wanted to kill them.

For a man that was so recently a killer, this was saying a lot.

For all its violence, the seizure only lasted a few minutes. They felt like forever, but when Logan wheeled himself back into the kitchen, Max striding along behind him, the food wasn't even cold.

"Sorry about that." She looked him in the eye with her usual frankness once they were seated.

"Nothing to be sorry for." He responded with an amiable smile, "Still have your appetite?"

Max flashed him a wicked grin, "Definitely." Surveying the table, Max spotted a strange green vegetable, covered in brown sauce, "But, uh… What is that?"

Logan grinned, "Bok Choi, a Chinese vegetable. Sautéed in soy sauce and sesame oil."

Max looked skeptic, "Yum?"

In that incredibly sexy manner of his, Logan titled his head to the side, "You eat _it_, it doesn't eat you. I promise."

Raising an eyebrow, she shot back, "Hey, in my line of work, you take nothing for granted."

"True." Neither of them broke eye contact, they were enjoying their dialogue too much, "Come on, hand me your plate. I'll serve." He extended a hand across the table.

"I don't know if I can trust you…" But both of them knew that wasn't true.

As he was heaping food onto her plate, Max took a few moments to absorb the contents of the table, "Genuine Chinese cuisine?"

Logan smiled, "Hey, I'm no one-trick pony. American and French cuisine get so… boring, after a while."

Max smiled, "Looks good," she faked a frown, "'Cept fir that green thing…"

"You'll like it. Trust me."

True to form, the food was delicious. Even the "green thing," which was surprisingly good, despite the fact that it was a vegetable. Max had just finished wiping her mouth of sauce and was about to speak, when there was a knock on the door. Logan and Max shared a look that warned to be ready for anything.

"I'll get it." Max said quietly.

Logan gave a decisive nod, "I've got your back." He responded, patting the pocket on his wheelchair where he now kept his gun.

Max stood by the door a moment, making sure Logan was ready, then yanked the door open…

…To reveal two children, covered in at least a week's worth of the dust and exhaust of the city. They looked like photographs handled to long over time, fading, worn around the edges. One of them had light brown hair, which was all of him you could see. He looked down, refusing to meet their eyes. The other one, a girl, looked up at them defiantly, looking past a mass of black hair to assess them with gray eyes.

"Are you Max?" she asked quietly, in a voice too timid for those fierce eyes, "Max of Manticore?" 

Max started, her brown curls dancing as she forced herself to keep from backing up a step. It was no use denying it so Max asked, "What do you want?"

The boy looked up, his mangled face was such a shock it took a few seconds for it to register to Max, "Your help." He told her, in the ferocious voice she had expected from the little girl. The right side of his face was a gruesome mass of scars, tendrils of scar tissue extending tendrils across his forehead and chin, impinging on the unharmed side.

Her face a mask of shock, Max turned helplessly to Logan, whose face was unreadable. After a few moments of scrutiny, Logan nodded, deciding something within himself, "Let them in." 


	2. Into the Fire

Chapter 2: Into the Fire

The two children found their way to the living room, ignoring Max and Logan who followed, sharing uncertain glances the whole way. The girl helped her companion sit, it was obvious bending was a cause of some discomfort to him. Once seated, he murmured his thanks, and she eased onto the couch next to him.

"What kind of help are you after?" Logan inquired from the edge of the carpet. He was concerned for Max, for anybody to know who she was… That had to be a terrible violation to her.

"The kind of help you are known for, Eyes Only. We need information and protection." The girl's eyes bored into his, and it was Logan's turn to start.

"Where do you get off implicating these things?" Max asked, trying to keep her cool.

The boy responded this time, those two were strange, they acted far to intelligently and far to well as a single unit for their age, "We aren't implicating anything. Implicating suggests that what is stated isn't true."

"We aren't trying to threaten…" The girl said, "But we…"Her eyes overflowed, and she looked down. Seeing her distress, the boy placed his hand on her shoulder and continued where she left off, "But we need help. And to get help, we need the advantage. The two of you, more then anybody, know what an advantage knowledge is."

Wheeling closer, Logan trained his brilliantly intelligent blue eyes on them, "Why are you here?" He asked gently.

The girl looked up, "They're after us…" and she sniffled once more before wiping her eyes and looking completely composed, "They're either going to take us back, or kill us."

"And dying may be preferable." The boy informed them soberly.

Max, who was standing next to Logan at the edge of the room, arms wrapped around herself at this story that sounded so much like her own, looked down at her companion. They had a conversation in that shared gaze, their rapport was so strong now they didn't even need words. They both knew that, no matter how threatened they felt, they needed to see this through.

"Let's start at the beginning, then," Logan wheeled himself a little closer to the two tiny figures huddled on his couch, "What are your names?"

"I'm Mitad." The girl said, "And this is Jason." She entwined her fingers with her companion's.

"How did you get here?" Logan asked mildly.

"We walked." Jason informed them matter-of-factly.

"From where?" Max inquired.

"From Oregon. Corva, to be exact." Jason said.

"We escaped from the compound," Mitad clarified, "That's where they want to take us back to."

"What compound, Mitad?" Logan asked, trying his best not to scare them… However, he was not so busy trying to be gentle that he didn't notice the meaning of the girl's name. In Spanish, 'Mitad' meant 'half.' Not 'half' as in "out of a measurable quantity" but as in "half of what was formerly a whole." Who on earth would name a child that? Perhaps it was a nickname… She was short…

"Elekon." Jason responded, answering regardless of who Logan had been addressing, "They're like Manticore…"

"…Only more recent." Mitad finished, "And maybe more dangerous, too."

"_More_ dangerous?" Logan couldn't help his incredulity. He caught Max's eye… She was wearing a look that seemed terribly far away, a place where Logan couldn't reach. A place Logan couldn't even begin to imagine…

"Max?" He whispered, aware of the children's probing eyes on them, "Max, are you--?"

"More dangerous?" Max asked quietly.

Mitad looked up solemnly, "Maybe. Probably."

The lights above threw the shadows of Max's eyelashes far down on her cheekbones, "What did they do?"

The two children shared a look, "You had better sit down." Jason directed her, his voice strangely compassionate. Looking numb, Max complied.

Mitad gazed up at Logan and smiled, her eyes regretful, "You won't have that problem…"

Something in her tone kept Logan from being stung at the casual remark.

"Elekon is just like Manticore in the fact that they breed and raise genetically engineered human beings." Mitad began without preamble, "They have many of the same problems. For example, they also use feline DNA to help with musculature," Mitad gave Max a significant look, "Which comes with it's own problems. We haven't gotten the 'problems' yet, but we will, once we're old enough."

"To understand fully," Jason took over the speech, "You need to know some history. Elekon was established as a sister company of Manticore, just after the pulse hit. Even though they were looking for their escapees and compensating for the loss of all electrical equipment, Research & Development was going full steam. During the Pulse, they discovered something very important."

"Around the pulse, where it had originated, there was a startling after effect," Mitad informed them, her fingertips nervously rubbing the knuckles on Jason's hand that she held, "For miles around, human beings were affected. Those closest to the blast were killed, their brains fried, short-circuited. That in itself wasn't expected—"

"The Pulse, you see," Jason picked up the thought, "It wasn't electricity, it was more like an airborne computer virus—" 

"And no one, least of all it's creators, thought humans would be affected." Mitad finished. 

"But, they were!" Jason told them, his eyes gleaming feverishly in what looked like fury, "Not only the humans, but animals too! Outside the initial circle of death was a larger, more horrifying circle. It was those that had survived." Jason's voice caught in anger, his cheeks were the bright red-color that only small children could achieve.

Using her spare hand to take his hand in both of hers, Mitad picked up the speech, her words picking up speed with every one she uttered, "They were insane. Crazy. Those that hadn't been killed initially walked around murdering people, talking to posts, slaughtering livestock that either died of fear on the spot or attacked them right back with astonishing ferocity. While not everybody was affected by homicidal tendencies, those that weren't were plagued by illusions, hallucinations, debilitating fear… They were easy prey for those that had been affected in a violent manner. The second circle was easily the bloodier sight." A tear slipped down her cheek, and Jason's head hung so low, it looked as if he would impale his chest with his chin. It was suddenly horrifyingly obvious to Logan and Max that these two had been witness to the pulse. Which made no sense… No matter how they talked, they looked no more then eleven… Even if they looked far to young for their age, they still were to young to remember…

"Manticore learned from this," Jason told them, raising eyes that Logan never, ever wanted to see on a child again. He was furious, terrified, desperate, but more then anything, he was desolate. Hopeless, "Just like them to learn from something so…" Tears spilled down his cheeks.

"Shh…" Mitad stroked his hair, "I'll finish." She looked up at the stunned adults and continued quietly, "They learned, through this—unconventional—experiment, that human mind's are fundamentally like electronic equipment. Much more sophisticated then that, but the fundamentals were the same. A human mind has a field around it, a malleable field, for those who knew how to manipulate it." Max sat forward on her seat, trying to catch every single incredible word coming out of the child's mouth. "So they set about making a child—a soldier—who could, and _would_, manipulate that field of energy… Using the principles they learned in the pulse, they set about making a human being who could manipulate the human mind."

"And you're it." Logan whispered, his downcast eyes suddenly meeting Mitad's with an unreadable, almost hostile expression.

"Please don't hate us." Mitad whispered, one of her arms now slung around Jason, who was now weeping soundlessly.

Logan took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose, finally, he looked up at them with blurred eyesight, "I can't hate you for something you have no control over."


	3. Anchor

Author's Note: Wow… You guys actually like me… *grin* Thank-you to everyone for the responses… This is just to tell you (because I forgot to say before) that the information I use in this story will be accurate up to Epsisode "Safe Haven." After that, the story goes through my warped little head.

Chapter 3: Anchor

Visibly grimacing, Logan's intellect took over, "You can explain the rest later. As for right now, you two look a mess." To Max's relief, Logan flashed them one of his gentle smiles--the one he reserved for people he cared about… "There's a bath down the hall, I can show you, and I can lend you some oversized t-shirts while we clean your clothing, how's that sound?" Logan wheeled over to Jason, whose head was still buried in his arms, his voice lowering into a compassionate whisper, Logan addressed Jason, "Hey… It's over now… Come on, I'll help you to the bathroom… No one's gonna hurt you…" It was a long shot, but if what these kids were telling him was true, then they should know that…

Regardless of how, Jason trusted Logan somehow, because he threw his arms around Logan's neck and crawled onto his lap, tears still leaking from his eyes, "It'll be okay…"

"We'll make it better," Max was suddenly standing beside the wheelchair, ready to take Mitad's hand, "I promise." She gave the two children a shaky smile, "After all, we're superheroes…"

Jason was reluctant to let go of Logan's neck once they got to the bathroom door, "Shh… it's okay…" Logan strove to reassure him. Finally, he managed to fob the child off on Max, who ended up sitting on the floor with Mitad by her side, and Jason in her lap as Logan ran the bath water.

"Okay." For once, everyone had to look _up_ to see Logan, which was a welcome change, "There are plenty of towels to go around, lots of soap and water and shampoo… Enough to drown an army, much less bathe one." Logan smiled again, "We'll be out in the kitchen, just holler if you need anything, okay? There are T-shirts hanging there," Logan gestured, "On the towel rack, alright? Don't be afraid to shout if you need anything, anything at all."

"thank you." Jason murmured.

Logan fluffed the child's hair, "Not a problem."

Logan got out of their way quickly, but Max stayed just a moment, "You'll be alright?" She asked, remembering how terrified they must be… It was obvious they hadn't been trained like her… For one thing, they could cry, and had no compunctions about it, for another, they had blurted their information like all-get-out. If they needed something… they might just ask.

"Yes, thank-you." Mitad told her politely.

Nodding, Max stood for just one more minute before whirling away and rushing down the hallway after Logan.

His back was to her, his head bowed. One hand, resting against the countertop, held his glasses, the other was toying with a knife that had been left out on the cutting board.

"Logan?" Max asked, tentative, feeling as though she was infringing on something, even though lately, the penthouse felt like she owned it along with him.

"Hmm?" He turned just enough so that she could see him in profile.

"Logan…"

He was staring at the knife, "Just kids… Just kids… How--? What kind of a person…" He trailed off into a growl and with a startlingly violent movement, he slammed the knife into the cutting board, leaving it stuck in there, upright and quivering. Suddenly his broken voice filtered to her enhanced ears. If it hadn't been for her Manticore blood, she wouldn't have heard him, "Am I that kind of a person?" But, she wasn't supposed to hear, so she didn't respond.

Max took one step forward, "Logan…" She repeated again, helplessly, not knowing what to say. She was especially helpless because, what he was feeling now? She felt it too.

He finally faced her, and saw that haunted look on her face. Immediately, guilt assaulted him, _Damn. Didn't even think. Too busy drowning in my own angst to help out the one who this is affecting the most._ Despite herself, her eyes were filling with tears.

"We—they're all just little kids." Max bit back a sob. She wouldn't cry, she wouldn't… Dampness trailed a path down her cheekbone, soaking her patented, Manticore skin.

"Oh, God, Max…" Logan thought his chest would burst with what he was feeling. Helplessness, and impotent rage… and above that all a tenderness towards her that was all-consuming. Not knowing what else to do, Logan opened his arms, and Max surprised them both by running into them, sitting on his lap like Jason had, moment's ago, hiccuping sobs into his neck, "Oh, Max," Logan stroked her hair, rubbed her back, but he didn't speak. There was nothing to say. Nothing to make up for her wasted years, her guilty existence, her trademarked DNA. This had been building for a while… She couldn't possibly hold it in any longer, and there was nothing he could do for her anymore. He simply held her tight and rocked her, hoping that the children wouldn't come out of the bath and see her like this.

After the sobs had subsided, Max just rested there, limp against his chest, listening to her pulse pound in her ears… With a start, she realized that it was not her own heart beating she listened to, it was Logan's. Lingering for just a moment, trying to hold on to his warmth, Max lifted her head, to gaze Logan in the eyes.

Pinning her with a steady, somber gaze, Logan reached out a hand to cup her cheek. It was meant to be a casual movement, but it sent a shiver up Max's spine. To be in such an intimate position with him was so strange… 

"Are you alright?" Logan asked, then shut his eyes, almost as if in pain, "Stupid question." He corrected himself, "Will you _be_ alright?" It was so unreal to be having this conversation while sitting on his lap… Max had the crazy desire to tell him what she wanted for Christmas, after all, she'd never gotten to tell Santa as a child. _Never got to do anything as a child… 'Cept shout 'no sir' 'yes sir' 'here, let me torment myself for your cruel, sadistic pleasure, sir.' If someone gave me a childhood, I wouldn't know what to make of it…_

Max nodded, scrubbing her eyes, back to business as usual, "Yeah, we can talk about it later. As of right now, we need to discuss those kids." She swung one leg off the wheelchair, and tried to crawl off him in as dignified a manner as possible. The attempt failed miserably when it became obvious that Logan had gotten his fingers caught in Max's luxurious brown curls.

"Uhh…" Logan began to blush, "Here… Let me…" Finally getting his fingers disentangled, Logan looked at her sheepishly, "Sorry about that…"

"No prob." Max gave a silly little smile, an oddly fitting contrast with her tear-stained cheeks. Giving one last sniff, dragging her denim sleeve across her eyes, she closed that emotional door and rerouted her energy, "Now, about the kids…"

Logan looked away, his eyes focused on some vague point out the window, "I believe them." He said quietly, "What they're telling us is insane, it's impossible. But I believe them."

Max approached him, gazing out the window, trying to see what it was he could find out in the darkness to hold his interest so. "Wanna know something crazier?"

"Mmm?"

"So do I."

He smiled at that, "So we wait for them to inform us, then we go from there?"

"Yeah…" She put a hand on his shoulder, it was a simple motion, she'd done it a thousand times before. This time, it felt different. Maybe it was that almost totally unfamiliar salty taste in her mouth, maybe it was the fact that, unlike so many other times, today Logan wasn't hiding his feelings. His pain was palpable, some foreign being clogging the air between them.

He wasn't like her, Max realized, he didn't want to be a killer. Wasn't trained for it. Didn't have the heart—or lack thereof—or the stomach to take it. His altruism was one of the things she was most annoyed by in Logan, but it was also one of the principal reasons that she loved him. In the last week, he'd had that stolen away. He could no longer even pretend to be a good guy… He was now safely in that gray zone that Max herself so comfortably inhabited. He had killed.

"Logan?"

He raised a hand to touch hers, where it was resting on his shoulder, "Yeah?"

She took his hand in hers, squeezed it, "If there's anything you need to talk about…"

"I know, Max. I know…"

"Right." She nodded, feeling utterly useless. _This is why I like using my hands… But there's nothing here for me to beat up. I can't escape this one for him, he's gotta do it himself._ Wrapped in her own dark mood, she sought out her anchor. Lazily, as if the movement was of no importance, she snaked her arms around Logan's shoulders and nestled her head next to his. In response, he reached up and laid his hands over her forearms.

They stayed a while, like that, both simply staring out the window into nothing, but at least taking solace in each other's company. For now, that was enough.


	4. Awakening

Author's note: Hey all, just to let you all know, this is going to be the ONLY chapter that   
doesn't have Max & Logan in it, just so no one gets panicky… I hope this doesn't lose   
any readers, I just wanted to let you all get to know Jason and Mitad… (And set up some   
information for later… *evil grin*)  
  
Chapter 4: Awakening  
  
"I dunno about you," said Jason, "But I like them."  
Mitad languorously moved the stagnant water around her with a lazy hand, "After   
spending so much time together, I don't think it's possible for us to disagree…"  
"You believe all that crap about merging fields and sharing minds?"  
Mitad scoffed, "Hey, what do you sound so smug about? So do you!"  
"Yeah, well…" He lifted a handful of bubbles and inspected them in the light, "I   
try not to make a habit out of it."  
They shared a smile, in between them, a flicker of thought passed, and Jason   
laughed at the image Mitad had shown him, "You're evil!" He exclaimed.  
Mitad's response was to shrug, her water glossed shoulders highlighted in the   
white bathroom light, "So?" They paused a moment, "We picked them well. They   
believe us."  
"Thanks to whatever God we can blame." Jason muttered. After a last moment of   
speculation, he blew through the bubbles, aiming a spray at Mitad, who deftly avoided it,   
{Why are we speaking out loud, anyway? They might hear us.}  
{And?} Mitad responded, "What do we have to hide? Besides, I'd sense it if they   
were eavesdropping… And they're waaaaay too honest for that."  
{Good point…} Jason reached for the soap, "But… still…"  
"I know… it feels so strange not to be running… Not to be hiding…"  
"You know, compared to those two, we're almost normal?"  
She laughed, "Almost… Hey, do you think they know?"  
"That they're--?"  
"Yeah."  
"I think they do… On a subliminal level…"  
"Huh. They'll figure it out eventually."  
"I don't think it's a matter of figuring it out, if it was, they'd have admitted it   
already. It's a matter of it being the right time. Look at the life they lead! You can't just   
expect them to—"  
"—Up and admit it. I know. But it's such a comfort… I wish they would…"  
"No. It's a comfort to us. We are utterly conscious of each other and we're used   
to it. They aren't."  
One of them sighed, "Still. They're both good people… And they could be such   
wonderful influences on each other…"  
The other shrugged, "They already are. They just—"  
"—Aren't like us."  
"Right."  
"Right."  
"But they will be, right?"  
"Of course."  
"Eventually…"  
Jason stood slowly, {It's a weird thing, being clean…}  
Mitad smirked, still seated, running her fingers through the water, luxuriating in   
the feel of it enveloping her hands, "Don't get to used to it."  
"I know… I know…" Jason reached up to snag one of the towels, but he tugged   
to hard, and it flipped off the bar, over his head. "Who turned out the lights?" He asked,   
yanking the towel off him.   
Mitad collapsed in laughter, the twinkling sound echoing off the walls, "Please,   
tell me that you meant to do that!"  
Now fully surrounded by the terrycloth towel, Jason blushed, "Uh… Oops?" and   
he wrapped himself up in the towel, which was about the length of a ballgown on his tiny   
body.  
"That," pointed out Mitad, "Looks ridiculous."  
"Hey… I can't help being only three feet and change!" He began to rub himself   
off, "You should probably get out, they'll get worried if we're in here too long."  
"Huh. I know, but they should have a few more minutes alone togeth—"  
"You can't force them, Mitad."  
She pouted charmingly, "I know." She lifted herself out of the tub, "But you are   
cynic."  
"Hey, it's a dirty job, but someone—"  
"Spare me the clichés." She yanked the next towel off the bar, stepping carefully   
out of the way to let if fall neatly to the floor before she picked it up.  
He smiled, "Jerk."  
"Right back atcha." She grinned, displaying all of her perfect, white teeth.  
Jason began pulling a T-shirt on over his head. True to Logan's word, the T-shirt   
was massive. It grazed Jason's toes.  
"You look like a pint-sized Roman senator." Mitad informed him, standing, stark   
naked, her head tilted to one side, watching him.  
"And you—look NAKED." Jason smiled pleasantly. That didn't bother Mitad,   
neither she nor Jason had the ability to think of each other in any kind of a sexual manner   
yet, they were far too young. But, with their intimate knowledge of the human mind,   
they knew how others thought, and unconsciously approximated the behavior.  
Mitad, still unclothed, gave a deep curtsey, "I'm happy you're so observant."   
Rising from her curtsey, she was suddenly attacked by a T-shirt, which wrapped itself   
around her head.  
"Put some clothes on."  
Mitad sputtered, {You know, I have half a mind to hurt you…}  
"Go'wan. I'd like to see you try." Jason smirked, but the light in his unharmed   
eye was kind, "Think about how Logan would feel about all those bloodstains!"  
"Eh… He likes you better then me, I can tell…" Mitad didn't mention that it was   
probably because Jason had a long-time-coming mental breakdown in front of him. It   
didn't seem prudent.  
"Hey, the super-babe has a thing for you, so don't go being all jealous about   
favoritism… Besides, if you want to get REAL psychological, we're the same person   
anyway, so it doesn't exactly matter, now, does it?"  
Mitad pouted, "Yeah, yeah… But that wouldn't give me anything to complain   
about." She struggled into the T-shirt, which was bright blue and hung to her ankles,   
"What's a guy with millions of dollars in the bank doing with a bunch of over-sized T-  
shirts?"  
"It's best not to delve into these matters." Jason informed her, mock-serious,   
"Ready to make your entrance?" The mass of scar tissue on his face was practically   
glowing in the harsh lighting.  
"Of course."  
Jason extended a hand to his companion, which she accepted gratefully, and they   
both slipped out of the humid air into the hallway.  
  



	5. Arbor

Chapter 5: Arbor

Mitad saw them together as they gazed out the window, _{Uhh…}_

{Do something tactful! Clear your throat, or… something!} Jason looked at her, gesturing with an impatient hand.

__

{Yeah… but they're having a 'moment'…}

{Let them have a moment on their own time! Or, have you forgotten what we're here for?}

{Killjoy.} Mitad cleared her throat.

Instantly, Max whirled around, giving them a less-then-genuine smile. Her eyes were still red from crying, but Mitad and Jason pretended not to notice. Logan smiled at them, though the skin around his eyes was tight, "Feel better?" He asked.

Mitad and Jason both appreciated the fact that he addressed them like adults, not pitching his voice high or asking if they needed assistance, _{He catches on quick.}_ Mitad said approvingly, out loud she voiced, "Yes, much. Thank-you."

"I'll go get your clothes and throw them in the washer." Max brushed past them, keeping her head down, trying to hide her eyes. Turning to watch her go, Jason couldn't help feeling guilty for being the one to bring up all her painful memories… But it was for the best… At least, that's what he told himself.

"Now," Logan folded his hands over his stomach, still smiling at them, trying to make them comfortable, "What do you need?"

Mitad smiled and voiced a thought Jason was too shy to say, "Clothes that we can't swim in."

Grinning, Logan responded, "Well, if you're staying a while, we have plenty of time to take care of that. What I meant was: What is it that you need our help to accomplish?"

"We…" Mitad shared a look with Jason, _{Why didn't I notice before how impossible this sounded?}_ "We want to shut Elekon down. For good."

"They train soldiers who can… who _will_ warp the human mind… And surprisingly enough, they are starting to succeed." Jason rubbed the scar on his face, a painful reminder.

Hopping up on the couch, careful to keep the T-shirt over her knees, Mitad continued for Jason, "At first, they were making, well, for lack of a better term, they were making telepaths. People with the ability to read and manipulate thought. But because of that, none of the soldiers would perform their duties. We all—of the five pairs—wouldn't work for Elekon, we were too smart, we had the knowledge of what our teacher's wanted us to do, and we refused to help destroy. Having such an intimate knowledge of the human mind, we were loathe to hurt others. 

"So, they started creating soldiers, manipulating their minds before they were born, as they grew…" Mitad stopped, rubbing her temples, "It was a sorry mess, it was… Using all their research, they managed to find a way of teaching these children… Words, language, thoughts, an environment… in a way that would make them pliable. They grew up to believe that the truth was contained in only a few minds—"

"The minds of those that taught them." Jason finished, his hand on his cheek, stroking the mangled texture of it.

"So what you're telling me, is that… they've succeeded?" Logan asked quietly. The pair of children could feel the waves of horror closing in over him.

"Yes…" Mitad responded, just as quietly.

"And, they have the same other advantages as the X-5's?" Max asked, entering the room. The children had been aware of her standing in the doorway, but let her think she still retained the element of surprise.

"Yes." Said Mitad, "If I wanted to, I could throw him," Mitad gestured to Logan, "Across the room, wheelchair, and all."

"You'd have to get her pretty riled up first, though." Jason added, his eyes downcast. He was picking at his fingernails, hunched over.

"And you want us to stop them for you?" Logan queried.

"No! We need your _help_ to stop them. We'll be there with you and everything, but… Well… We just can't do this by ourselves." Mitad stared at her hands, which were now folded in her lap.

Max and Logan shared a look above the children's head's, a look that went on forever, "Alright." Logan said finally, "You two go to bed, and we'll discuss this in the morning."

"Before or after we get decent clothing?" Mitad asked, smiling sweetly.

"After." Logan said, smiling, in some strange way, this girl reminded him of Max, "Now go to bed… I'm assuming you can find the way yourselves?" Logan was very much aware of the fact that they probably knew every single thought running through his head.

"Sure. Come on, Jason."

Max waited until she heard the door close behind the two, then she threw herself down on the couch and buried her head in a pillow. Groaning, she clamped her hands down on the back of her head, "I thought this was gonna be a _quiet_ week…"

Smiling ironically, Logan countered, "A week with you in it is never quiet…"

"Can't keep a girl from hoping…" She dragged herself up to sit cross legged, staring at Logan, "So, what're we going to do?"

"Same thing we always do… Help the weak and down-trodden, 'blah, blah, woof, woof.'" The comment should have been accompanied by one of Logan's devastatingly gorgeous grins, but he looked solemn. Out of nowhere, he looked down at his hands and addressed her, "I don't think they'll eavesdrop, and now is as good a time as any to talk…" He fixed his piercing gaze on her, "_Are_ you going to be alright?" Why did he always have to look her straight in the eye at the exact moment she was about to try and lie?

"Why wouldn't I be?" Max asked, grinning.

"Stop lying." Logan told her, in a voice so intense it made her pause, "If you're not going to tell me, _fine_. But have the decency to be honest about it."

Any other day, she would have begun a tirade, accusing him of any number of things, but they were both simply too tired. It was easy enough to see through him, anyway, he was just trying to take care of her, in the best way he knew how. 

Max broke the gaze they shared first, "What am I supposed to say?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant, "That I'm royally fucked up and probably always will be? That I never had parents to call my own, or a decent home? Am I supposed to always be pissed that I never got a fenced in yard and a pet dog?"

"Maybe. How about being angry that all your life you've been used, and now they're using more little kids, treating them like you, and it's making you crazy? Or how about the fact that you can't be honest with anyone, and now you have people who care about you, who you could be honest with, but you've lied so long you don't know _how_ to tell the truth anymore? Or maybe…" His voice got very quiet, "You're just exhausted, like the rest of us."

Max tried to crack a smile, "Hey, I already cried once today, isn't that enough?"

"I'm not trying to hurt you, Max, but I'm tired of you not letting me help."

__

That made her angry, "Hey, it goes both ways! Don't you try to tell _me_ that you _like_ being stuck in a wheelchair! And don't try to tell me that you enjoy making me go out and do your legwork for you! And don't… you… _dare_ try to tell me that you're perfectly fine with suddenly being a killer. Because I _know_ you're not." Max saw how much hurt she'd put in his eyes, but this had all gone far enough, "Next time you wanna preach to _me_ about honesty, think long and hard about where it's coming from!" Normally, this would be her cue to grab her coat and leave, to make him think about all this (actually, to run away from the counter-attack that would leave her dazed and hurt and confused, but, why bother with details?) but tonight, it was different. She was going to hold her ground… She was going to _help_ him, dammit. He was too inverted for his own good. Besides, they were both on the verge of tears, and she didn't want to go home like that and have Original Cindy getting all concerned and blaming Logan and all men… "Logan…" He lifted his eyes to meet hers. God, he looked so _tired_. This man was Atlas, with the weight of an entire world on his shoulders… He'd been so busy trying to save the world, he'd forgotten about saving himself… If he could still stand… He would have collapsed by now. How many times had she sneaked into his apartment, only to find him fast asleep, still fully clothed and in his wheelchair, in front of a computer, Manticore files displayed on the screen in front of him? "Logan…" Her voice was hoarse with a sudden wave of compassion, "Why won't you…?" But after all the imaginary conversations she'd had, the question wouldn't come.

There was a few moments pause. "I had to save you." Logan's voice came out of the void they were wrapped in, "For the first time, you were helpless, absolutely helpless… Those bastards_… Those bastards…!_ Pushed me out of my chair--I try to tell myself it wasn't about that… They were going to hurt you…" He scraped a hand through his hair, "They were going to hurt you, do God-knows-what to you… The boy, that fire… What kind of _monsters_—would do that, to a kid?" He ground the heel of his hand into his forehead, "Manticore, and them… Those goons… I've wanted to punish those kinds of people for so long… But not like that, _never_ like that… And I… And I…" He looked up at Max, and even though she knew he was going through a mental breakdown, she thought his eyes had never been clearer, "And I _did._" The clarity disappeared and he stared down at his hands, "And I had to _try_ not to enjoy it. Beating them… It felt _good._ It felt _right._ It felt… justified…

"What kind of a person thinks that?" He put a hand over his eyes, trying to shut them against everything he'd seen lately. She stayed silent, knowing far to acutely that she had nothing to say. 

The room was soundless…

Then, there was a hitch in a breath.

Her head snapped up at the sound, she had never thought… Would never had dreamed… He was so together, so intensely private-- sometimes she thought he was better at hiding then she was… He was wiping away tears, and he _hadn't turned around._ He was still facing her, not looking at her, but not bothering to turn away, either. Slowly, trying not to startle him, she moved over to him, her wide brown eyes never leaving his face. She was fascinated by this man, she would never admit it, but she was, and to have him expose himself like this was so… Amazing. Not good, but amazing just the same… She knelt by his side, took one of his hands in hers.

"Max…" He looked her in the eye, and she had to turn away, she wasn't ready for the emotions she saw there. "Max…" The word was a caress, "We should go to sleep." The change in subject was so abrupt—Max yanked her head back up, "There's always another time… You're tired, you need rest." His hand slipped out of hers, and she let her own hand fall, "You can sleep in my room, I'll take the couch."

"Nuh-uh," Max stood, "You mean you'll sit out here doing your 'Eyes Only' crap until God-knows-when trying to help out those kids. No. You're going to your own bedroom. _I'll_ sleep out here."

"But—" _But if I let you stay out here, you might leave me again…_ "I'm a gentleman… You're going to have to take the bed. I won't be able to sleep knowing you're uncomfortable." He smiled with his teeth only.

"And I won't be able to sleep knowing _you're_ uncomfortable."

"I see we're at a standoff."

"Damned right."

Logan raised an eyebrow, "Last one to the bed is a rotten egg?"

"Nice try."

"You aren't gonna give up, are you?"

"Nope."

Logan sighed, "Alright, have it your way—"

"Wow. How many times does a girl get to hear _that?_"

"Don't get to used to it." He responded dryly, turning to leave, "Just don't—" He caught himself just in time.

"Just don't what?" She prompted.

"Nothing. Good night."

__

Just don't leave. 


	6. Another Beginning's End

Chapter 6: Another Beginning's End

Max squinted, taking in the weak, gray sunlight streaming in from the window, "Is it morning already?" She grumbled, taking a moment to stretch. Cracking her neck, she was just about to swing her feet onto the floor when she realized what it was she'd said.

_Morning? I slept… 'Till morning? Isn't that supposed to be—impossible…?_

She shook her hair out, trying to put it in some semblance of order, "Huh."

_Maybe he was right, for once… Maybe I was tired… _She smiled, Logan might not be right about much, but every once in a while, he'd hit the nail on the head. _Or drive it into a coffin…_ She paused, _Now where did THAT thought come from?_

Not aiming for anywhere in particular, Max headed into the kitchen, surprised to find that it was clean, the table cleared, and dirty dishes nowhere to be found. _He probably couldn't sleep._ She surprised herself by being overly concerned, _It was probably something I said, too. Huh. 'S what a girl gets for honesty. _ She meandered over to the doorway, leaning against it for a few moments, trying to figure out what it was she was supposed to be doing. Covering a yawn with one shapely hand, she figured that if anybody knew what was up, it was Logan, and headed towards his room, still drunk on the excess of sleep.

"Hey, Logan—" She hissed, standing on the threshold, "What d'you—" She stopped short, noticing the alarm clock by his bedside, _5:57? What the hell-- Oh, yeah… just changed the clocks, didn't we?_ She scrubbed her eyes, entering the room, _Huh. Can't believe I forgot… Then again, today seems to be a day of firsts for me…_

Sleep was decidedly a strange sensation for her, she felt… Lazy. She plopped down in a chair by Logan's window, watching him as he slept.

_Y'know… He's almost adorable…_ One arm was thrown across the bed, bars of sunlight playing on the hairs on his forearm, fingers slightly curled, as if he would reach to take hold of something at any moment. His face, usually so guarded lately, was erased of any emotion but contentment. Max couldn't help but smile, he exuded peace. 

Her eyes drifted across the room, scanning for anything worth noticing, and her eyes settled on the wheelchair, steadfast by his bedside.

_Not my fault._ That was her assertion, every time she started to think about it, she had to convince herself. He'd gotten into the whole thing himself, he was a big boy… And yet… If only she'd teamed up with him sooner… 

_(I kinda like being able to walk…)_

Almost as if to reflect her thoughts, his brow furrowed, and a slight sound escaped his lips… It sounded like a question. Under his lids, his eyes moved, suddenly, his lips moved upward, almost into a smile.

_The music, it was Dvorak's New World Symphony… My father used to listen to it all the time, but he took the CD with him on the boat, and it was drowned alongside him. Knowing that, I couldn't listen to it again. But, next to her, it's bearable. It seems a trifle—it seems stupid to worry. After all, she's in my arms, and smiling and dancing to the music along with me. Smiling as if it were some cosmic joke only she and I shared—as if this existence was privileged to the two of us, and the two of us alone. Dancing so slowly, almost every inch of my body in contact with hers, the feeling of her bare shoulder against my hand too sweet, to smooth, to perfect to even be understood. I take a few moments to revel in it. The smell of her hair, the perfect texture of her skin, the incredible architecture of her face._

My eyes meet hers, and it is as if we were connected by pure energy. The space between us is pure electricity, her smile tells me she feels it too. Her eyes widen, and she opens her mouth to tell me something, her lips stretching further into her smile. I cannot hear, but it doesn't matter. We don't need words.

I pull her closer to me, lower her into a dip, and she laughs, her chin pointed to the sky, her neck extended. Slowly, she stands up straight, her eyes meeting mine once again.

I have something I need to tell you,_ she tells me. Or at least, that is what I think I read on her lips, _I need something from you.

__

I stroke a tendril of hair away from her face, Anything you want._ I try to tell her, and smile, but she looks at me quizzically, as if she doesn't understand._

Her eyes darken, I'm not who you think I am._ She breaks away, and the music stops, there is only silence between us. Her eyes cloud further, and she turns her head, trying to escape, _I can't--_ But she turns her head and the rest of the words are lost to me._

What?_ I ask, beginning to panic, _What?

__

I look down, and see she is wearing her cat suit, her hair falls down around her shoulders, the elaborate construction of it disappearing. Good-bye.

__

Wait!_ I cry, _Wait!_ I try to run after her, but it is useless, I fall to the floor. My legs won't respond, _Oh, God…_ But I cannot hear my own words, I am stuck here. I swallow a sob, my arms scrabble, trying desperately to find purchase. I manage to lift myself a few inches, only to find the floor too slippery and fall back, onto my chin._

I hear laughter.

Gimp.

__

They are the first words I've heard yet.

Who was that?_ I scream desperately, but the sound is swallowed, _Who said that?

__

More silence.

I start to cry. I feel I am at the end… Again.

Where did I put my gun? It was… I was…

I turn, on my belly, like a snake. I am crying at the desperation of it, I have been unmanned. I have to send someone else to do my work. I am useless. I am worse then useless, I am a massive lump of wasted potential. Rich, spoiled playboy… 

My wheelchair stands in front of me, looming over me, dark and stark, and terrible. A hand flits out, bats at it, and I am rewarded by a spectacular pain radiating up my arm.

NO._ I scream, _I HATE YOU.

Am I talking to myself?

Oh, God,_ I hear a voice, one that isn't attacking, _Is this what you really think?

__

Rich, spoiled, nothing of a man… A boy. Still a boy, crying in the dark for his parents… My parents… 

Dvorak plays, low and mournful. Sound is returning, and it assaults my ears, I long to hear that voice again, the one that spoke, so calm. The only thing about this that makes any sense at all…

Please…_ I whisper, unsure that speaking will have any effect, but, to my relief, I can hear my own words, _Please, help me away from here…_ I try to push myself up, when I feel two hands under my arms. They lift me up to my feet, _No,_ I protest, _I can't…_ But I do, I am on my feet, and she is looking at me._

You really did try to end it all, didn't you?_ She asks, her voice mournful._

I nod.

She looks as if she is about to cry, I reach for her, to tell her I'll live for her, but she slaps my hand away.

How can you be such a coward!_ She cries, backing away._

(I would never… How can he think…?_ The voice is almost out of range for hearing, fading away._)

You don't understand…_ But she turns and runs away, too late, I see Lydecker in the shadows, _MAX!_ I scream, but not soon enough, the silence has stolen my voice again, and I can only watch as she is torn down by a hail of bullets. One of them misses her head, unlike three others, and tears off a lock of hair. It flutters down to the floor, to rest in a pool of her blood._

Lydecker turns to me, Thank-you for all your help, Eyes Only. I take it you will have no problem broadcasting this?_ He hands me a package._

(Eyes only cannot be bought.)

I stare at him from where I sit on the floor, uncomprehending, You'll be paid handsomely for her termination._ My eyes drift to her broken body where it lies on the floor._

My mouth shapes a word, but I give up, knowing nothing will come out, I merely take the package, and nod. 

The tears roll down, until I cannot see a thing, but I can feel.

How I wish I couldn't.

I can feel everything in my twisted heart, but I cannot feel my legs under me.

I can only try to scream. 

"Logan!" Max cried desperately, "Logan!" The images parading through her mind, the feelings that had suddenly assaulted her, they were too much, she was so afraid that they were real. Logan was moving in his sleep, the blankets bunched around his torso.

He moaned, a desolate sound.

"Wake up!" She hissed, taking him by the shoulders, "_Please_, just _wake up._"

With a gasp, his eyes flew open, his hands seized hers, "What—?"

His eyes darted around the room for a few moments as he tried to reacquaint himself with his surroundings, "Logan?" She asked, as his eyes focused on hers.

"I just had the strangest dream…" He told her, in a voice that was hoarse and scratchy.

"I would never…" Max repeated, "I would never…"

__

I would never walk away from you.

In a moment, they both understood, she had been the voice... Max threw her arms around him.

They didn't say anything for a few moments, just allowed each other to think in the security that they gave each other.

"Let's go have breakfast," Logan murmured, just as it was about to become an uncomfortable situation, "There's an explanation for this."

Nodding, Max walked around the bed, to help him into his wheelchair.


	7. Strawberries

Author's note: So sorry about the delay, but I was on vacation and couldn't post

Author's note: So sorry about the delay, but I was on vacation and couldn't post. This chapter is pretty boring, but it'll get VERY interesting, VERY soon… I promise!!! Please keep reviewing! Hope you all like it!

Chapter 7: Strawberries

The apartment was so goddamn nice.

And he'd never really taken the time to notice that before. It was always the means to an end, background. He knew this place like the back of his hand, it had no more meaning to him, it had borne witness to too many things, it was only there for use. But, suddenly, he realized how lucky he was, in a startlingly tangible way. He had more then anyone in this twisted world could hope to even want, for Chrissake's, he even had his own interior designer—well, if he wanted to use her services, which Logan didn't… 

Seattle was notorious for it's gray skies, yet Logan was never out in the rain, the wet, the cold, he wasn't at the mercy of any of the elements, he always had abundant light streaming through the windows.

It occurred to him to be grateful.

Then again, it was easy to be grateful when in the real world, away from nightmare dreamscapes, with a beautiful woman walking by his side.

"Do you want to tell me what that was all about?" Max asked quietly, once they were in the kitchen.

Logan kept his head down, "In a bit. You want to tell me what happened there?" He began puttering around the kitchen, starting to retrieve what he would need to make pancakes.

"Not really. I think I saw one of your dreams…" _Again._ Max added silently, "What are we making for the kids?"

"Pancakes," Logan responded, "What part did you see?" He was too tired to be afraid of how much she could know.

"I think all of it… I 'walked in' when we… were dancing… And it ended after I… got shot…" Max's brow furrowed as she turned away from Logan, trying to stifle the concern she had for him that was threatening to derail her, "What do you need from the fridge?"

"Eggs and cream, if you don't mind." He paused, opening a drawer and rummaging for a whisk, "Huh. That sounds like all of it… Could you get the sugar and flour from on top of the counter, while you're over there?"

"Sure thing." She retrieved everything and brought it over to him, "I probably saw it because of those kids, huh?"

"That's what I'm guessing." Logan grabbed the pancake mix and started throwing things into a bowl, "They were talking about manipulating human minds like they were energy fields, right? Like… Like we're transmitters, and they're the antennae…" He began beating the eggs, "They probably just happen to have this kind of effect on people, especially while they're asleep, when they have no more control over it. Hey, I forgot to ask for the butter—"

"No prob." Max buried her head in the fridge.

"Of course, this is all speculation," she tossed him a stick of butter and he caught it deftly, "Thanks. We can ask them about it when they wake up."

Max nodded, thinking to herself that it was fine with her if she _never_ knew what had just happened in there. God, it had been so frightening… To be so intimately aware of his thoughts, yet to be in command of herself at the same time… Feeling his pain so well and being able to do nothing about it… It was chilling. No matter how much he had opened himself up to her before, nothing could prepare her for how deep his emotions ran… especially where she was involved.

"Yeah… I'm surprised that they've slept this long… after all, they are biosynths…"

Logan mixed the batter viciously, "I don't care _what_ they are, they're little kids…" Logan put the whisk down, inclining his head towards Max. "And, judging from their behavior, very scared little kids who've been running for a very long time…" She had the sneaking suspicion that he was talking about her, however indirectly.

"You can't help feeling badly for them… But…"

He turned back and began to work again, "But what?"

"They might still be playing us. Especially if they were telling us at least a partial truth and they _can_ manipulate minds. That dream, me seeing it, it might've been them trying to throw us off balance."

"Did it throw you off balance?" He asked, tone candid, even though he wouldn't meet her eyes.

Max bent down, her lithe body moving like liquid, "Yes," she admitted readily, not meeting his eyes, either. "It's a good tactic." She found a pan and showed it to him, "This good?"

"It's fine, thanks." He took it from her hands and placed it on the stove.

"I didn't offend you by suggesting they might be playing us…?"

Logan shrugged, "The thought crossed my mind. But, still… I'm gonna assume they're innocent until proven guilty."

"We should still take precautions," Max began, her voice becoming heated.

"I know that," Logan broke in smoothly, "And we will. I just don't want to accuse them of anything just yet."

Hoisting herself up to sit on a countertop, Max watched the back of Logan's shoulder's as he worked. He was getting stronger, his white T-shirt showed off his biceps, which were getting more and more well defined every single time she noticed… Which was often, lately. The batter hit the pan with a gratifying hiss.

"Neither do I…" They were both quiet for a little while, Logan only interrupting her thoughts once to ask for her to retrieve a plate. It was a companionable silence, it usually was, considering that whenever they had a disagreement, one of them was wont to leave. 

Logan's word came out of nowhere, "It keeps getting worse, doesn't it? What they do… it's more and more monstrous, the more I hear about it…"

Bowing her head, Max stayed silent, hiding her eyes behind a curtain of hair, in case he turned around.

"It must be difficult… To hear about it."

"A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do." Was Max's cryptic answer.

There was a few seconds of silence, "But it's got to hurt." Logan left it at that, slowly, the pile on pancakes grew.

"Sometimes." Max admitted, "But it goes away…"

"At least, before it comes back again…" they both smiled ironically at this, life always seemed to happen that way.

"'Life isn't one damn thing after another,'" Max quoted a sticker she'd seen on someone's bike the other day, "'It's the same damn thing over… and over…'"

Flashing her a grin, Logan lifted the pan off the stove, "I think this is done." He told her, reaching to deposit the dirty pan in the sink.

"Want me to clean up?"

"Nah, that can wait 'till after we eat… Should we wake them up?" Logan handed Max the plate and gestured for her to go sit at the table, he began to gather plates, utensils, syrup… Real maple syrup that cost about one-hundred bucks a bottle. Not as much as it would have sounded twenty years ago, considering inflation, but still a pretty penny.

"No… We can always heat it up again."

"True." He wheeled himself over to the table, suppressing a sigh that came out of nowhere.

__

"Do you want me to say the prayer?" He asked, looking back and forth between his parents. 

Mom smiled, "Of course you can."

"Dear Lord, I want to thank you for the wonderful food, and Juanita, who cooked it, and I wanna thank you for giving me a wonderful Mom and Dad who love me very much… and I want to thank you for giving Dad all his money, and I want to thank you for letting me get a wonderful education." Logan looked up at Dad hesitantly, "Is that good?" 

Logan's father suppressed a smile and nodded.

"Okay. A-men."

"Amen." His parents echoed.

Juanita, the cook, entered the room, carrying a pitcher of water, "The food looks wonderful, Juanita." Mother told the woman.

"Why, thank-you Mrs. Cale. But wait until you taste it."

"Do you want strawberries with that?" Logan remembered he had some in the fridge.

"You have strawberries!? Hell's yeah." Max told him, her eyes lighting up.

__

"Juanita… Uhm…" Logan shifted his weight and shoved his glasses up farther onto his nose, "I was wondering…" he couldn't bring himself to ask.

"What is it, chiquito_?" she asked._

"Uh… Nothing…"

"Come on…" Juanita wiped her dimpled hands on her apron, "you can tell me!"

"Well…" It all came out in a rush, "Dad's birthday is coming up, and now that we have all this money and everything, there's nothing I can get him that he can't get himself, and, well, I was wondering… Could you teach me how to cook?" He looked down at his feet.

"Of course! What would you like to make him?"

"Something REALLY complicated!" Logan exclaimed with childish enthusiasm, "So he'll be REALLY impressed!"

"I don't know, chiquito… You're just starting out… Maybe something simpler then you have in mind?" Juanita could see in his eyes that he was having visions of roast duck, or some such.

"No… Don't worry, you'll be helping me, it'll be GREAT… And it has to be REALLY complicated… REALLY impressive…"

Juanita smiled, but it was troubled, she knew that it would take a lot to get Mr. Cale to be impressed… Logan was constantly jumping through hoops for his father, who, it seemed, was impervious.

"Alright… Do you have a spare hour? We should start planning now, it's only a few weeks away."

"Okay!" He clambered onto a stool, eager to learn.

"What are his favorite foods…?" 

Logan took out a cutting board and began chopping up the fruit, "Where do you _find_ this stuff?!" Max exclaimed, delighted at the treasure.

Humbly, he shrugged, "Around."


	8. 

Chapter 8: Luxury

Chapter 8: Luxury

__

He waited, expectant, as his father lifted the food to his mouth. Clamping his hands in his lap, trying desperately not to squirm, he was the embodiment of self-control. His ice-blue eyes were wide as his father chewed and swallowed, then looked up at his son and said…

"I haven't slept that well in weeks…" Jason snuggled down deeper into the pillow, feeling the warmth of Mitad's back against his.

"I always wondered what luxury felt like…" She sighed, content.

Solid bars of light crept up the walls, slowly invading the guestroom.

"I am contemplating getting up… Do me a favor and stop me."

Mitad smiled, "Well… We can sit here and bask in our own laziness, or we can go find out what that heavenly smell is emanating from the kitchen…"

"Ooooooohhh… All these complicated decisions…" Jason groaned into the pillow, "Just give me five more minutes?"

Mitad turned, wrapping her arms around the only person in her life she loved enough to trust, "Gladly."

__

Jason tried not to think about it, and, as always, he failed miserably. There were shadows dancing in the back of his head, undulating. He tried to ignore them, failing that, he tried to block his thoughts from Mitad. 

She shared with him everything he'd ever done, including his pain, he could hurt her just by thinking about it. But that thought couldn't stop the memories from invading… sometimes it seemed to him that, no matter what he tried, they would never run long enough or fast enough to get away from everything they'd already done.

"Hey… You still there, spaceboy?" Mitad chided gently, "Anything you want to talk about?" She knew that he didn't, obviously, otherwise his mind wouldn't be the mental equivalent of Fort Knox. Still, she wanted him to know that she was there for him.

"Feel like breakfast now?" Jason asked abruptly.

"Sure…" Simultaneously, they rose, creeping over to the door with no more sound then the shadows that tickled their ankles across the floor.

__

{That smells so good…}

{This is the sound of no one disagreeing with you…}

"—So where should we go?"

"I'm not sure… Maybe down—Good morning!" Logan interrupted his conversation with Max to fix the two children with an intelligent, blue-eyed stare, "Sleep well?"

"Yes, thank-you." Mitad responded graciously.

"In the mood for breakfast?" Max asked, anticipating their answer and heading towards a cabinet.

"Definitely…" Jason murmured, seating himself at the kitchen table, Mitad clambering onto the chair beside him.

"So…" Max began, after retrieving the plates, "What—?" the question halted, unformed, on her lips. Her mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments.

__

How could I have missed that?

Logan's brow furrowed, "What's wrong?"

"Where's the barcode?" Max demanded, putting the plates down on the island, "**Where is your barcode?**" She asked, more heatedly then before.

"Huh? Oh. That." Mitad responded, just as Jason began pulling down the neck of his shirt, "They wanted us to be able to fit in easily… You know, not have to wear turtlenecks during the dog days of summer if we're out in the field. Rather stupid of them… Especially after the '09 escape. But that's what they wanted…" With Mitad's help, Jason finally got the recalcitrant shirt to display a circular mark just under the base of his neck.

Whipping off his glasses, Logan wheeled closer to the two children. After a moment's scrutiny, he turned to Max, locking eyes. 

"Why's it circular?" Max asked, venturing closer for a better look.

Mitad shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine…"

Max placed one hand on Jason's left shoulder, the other she used to hold down the collar. It was a circular barcode, about the size of a silver dollar, on the outside perimeter the numerals marched around. In the center, there was a geometric design which defied Max's logic.

"Why the pretty picture?" She asked.

"It's an identifier." Mitad responded easily, "We each have unique ones… Different quadrants contain different information if you know how to read them… But we don't know how. Everyone who knew that was outside…"

There was a significant pause before Logan asked the same question on Max's lips, "Outside where?"

"Just _outside_." Mitad responded, moving to remove Max's hands from around Jason's neck, "You're starting to hurt him…" She whispered.

"Sorry." Responded Max, who caught a last glance of the scar tissue that crept over his collar bone, "You said you had the same advantages as X-5's… Then why's he got the scars?"

At this, Jason smiled rakishly, "That was MY idea… When we both got burned—well, Mitad heals faster 'n me… So, she was almost completely done, and I had _this_," he gestured to his face, "And I decided to keep it—after all, they're going to be looking for someone who can survive forty-foot falls… Not a boy who's been through a terrible accident."

"How?"

"How what?" Mitad asked, acutely aware of her stomach growling.

"How do you stop it?"

"It had to do with our extra… features…. Healing has a lot to do with state of mind…" Jason would have gone into the fact that speeding up healing was his specialty and that there was this section of the brain that, if you manipulated it just right, it could repair almost anything in your body. And he could have told them how he fed it levels of different chemicals—but it was simply to early in the morning to delve into it. Besides, it took all the mystery out of it when you offered a scientific explanation, and science didn't get as much unconditional respect as his abilities did, anyway, "So I just shut that part of my head down for a while." Jason shrugged, "If I get hurt really bad again, the scar will disappear with my other injuries, but until then, I heal like a normal person."

Mitad smiled, her eyes glittering, "It's really cool!" She looked down at the table, "I mean… in a little way… He gets to be normal…" She caught Max's eye, "Just for a little bit."

Logan caught the look in Max's eyes, "Enough talk for now, weren't we discussing breakfast?"

Slowly, Max picked up the plates and deposited them on the table.

"I have a friend coming over soon," Logan began, once Mitad and Jason were almost finished eating their share of pancakes, "He'll be bringing you some clothes… Nothing fancy, just so you have something to wear while we shop."

Mitad lifted her head away from her plate, wiping syrup from her cheeks, "His name… It wouldn't happen to be… Bling, would it?"

"Lucky guess?" Logan asked blithely.

"You could say that…" Mitad muttered, but she looked perturbed.

__

{You know,} Jason began, _{We _can_ stop trying to impress them with the dog and pony show…}_

{I know that,} Mitad responded, _{That's what's bugging me, I wasn't _trying_ to do it.}_

Jason frowned into his plate, but after a moment, his expression brightened, "Hey, that was really good! I think I like strawberries…"

"Never had them before?" Max asked.

"You remember how it is," Mitad answered her, "It's army rations. Nothing torturous… But no variety. Other then apples and oranges, we only read about most fruits before we got outside."

Max's lips twitched upward in what was either the beginnings of a smile or a grimace of recognition.

Logan opened his mouth to divert the subject matter yet again when the doorbell rang, "You get it, Logan, I'll clean up." Max began picking the plates up off the table.

"Sure." Logan tried to catch her eye as he smiled his thanks, but she kept her eyes on her work. Sighing, he wheeled towards the door.

Opening it, he found a stack of groceries at least three times as tall as he was in his chair.

A stack of groceries that spoke: "Hey, man, sorry about ringing the bell, but I couldn't exactly manage all of these _and_ a key."

"_Bling?_"

Bling's head poked out from behind all the packages, "Who else?"

Shaking his head in wonderment, Logan held out his hands, "Here, give me those… It'll be good exercise."

"Thanks, man." Bling dumped two of the bags on Logan's lap, "So, what is it I smell?"

Logan smiled, his blue eyes crinkling, "Let me guess… You haven't had breakfast?"

Bling grinned, juggling the bags he held into a more comfortable position, "Sometimes, Logan, I think you're psychic—"


End file.
